Three days passed in a blur of walking, hiding, and hungry sleep.
They moved east, always east, following Daven's stolen compass. The forest seemed endless. Massive trees gave way to rocky hills, then to marshland that sucked at their boots. They drank from streams and ate berries that Sera said were probably safe.
Two people got sick anyway. Bad water or bad berries, it didn't matter. They were slowing down.
On the fourth day, they lost someone.
Her name was Mira—not the same Mira who would later become Korath's teacher, just another escaped slave trying to survive. She'd been coughing since the river, the sound getting worse each day.
She died in her sleep. Didn't wake up for morning watch.
They buried her in a shallow grave, marking it with stones so at least the scavengers would have to work for it.
Seven left now. Seven out of thirty who'd tried to escape.
"How much farther?" Tam asked that night. His voice was small, defeated.
Daven studied his compass by firelight. "Week, maybe two. If we don't get lost. If we don't run into more bandits. If—"
"We get it," Sera cut him off. "Too many ifs."
"You have a better answer?"
"No. Just tired of maybes." She poked the fire, sending sparks into the darkness. "Feels like we're walking to our deaths nice and slow."
Nobody argued. They'd all felt it—the sense that they were just delaying the inevitable. The forest would kill them, or bandits would, or they'd simply give up and lie down like Mira.
Korath stared at his hands. The cuts were healing finally, forming thick calluses. Slave hands becoming something else. Survivor hands.
Or dead man hands, his mind whispered. Won't know till the end.
Morning came with rain—cold, steady, miserable. They walked through it anyway, too tired to wait for better weather. The ground turned to mud that grabbed their boots with every step.
"Careful here," Brick called from the front. "Ground's unstable—"
The earth gave way under his feet.
Brick's eyes widened. He grabbed for a tree root, missed, and tumbled down a steep slope. His body crashed through bushes and bounced off rocks, disappearing into a ravine below.
"Brick!" Daven rushed to the edge, barely stopping himself from falling too.
Korath joined him, looking down. The ravine was maybe thirty feet deep, walls slick with mud and rain. At the bottom, Brick lay unmoving.
"Is he dead?" someone whispered.
As if in answer, Brick groaned and stirred.
"I'll go down," Daven said. "We need rope—"
"Wait." Korath pointed. "There's someone else down there."
It was true. Another figure lay near Brick—smaller, partially hidden by bushes. A person.
"Hello?" Sera called down. "You alive?"
The figure moved. A face looked up—young, female, with short dark hair and eyes that shone even from this distance.
"Help," she called weakly. "Please help."
They found a way down—not falling, but a careful descent using tree roots and careful footholds. Korath went first, testing each step.
The ravine floor was littered with broken branches and old bones. Animal bones, he hoped. The rain had pooled in places, forming murky puddles.
Brick sat up as they approached, wincing. "Nothing broken. Just bruises." He nodded at the girl. "Found her already down here. Looks hurt."
Korath moved closer. The girl was maybe his age, sixteen or seventeen, dressed in traveler's clothes that were torn and muddy. Blood stained her side—a lot of blood.
"What happened?" he asked.
"Fell. Three days ago." Her voice was tight with pain. "Leg's broken. Can't climb out." She looked at them with desperate hope. "Please. I have money. I can pay—"
"We don't want money," Sera said, kneeling beside her. She examined the leg, her face grim. "This is bad. Bone's showing. How are you even conscious?"
"Stubbornness." The girl tried to smile. "And medicine. Had some painkillers in my pack. But they're gone now."
Sera looked at the others. "We should leave her."
"What?" Korath stared.
"She's dead weight. Broken leg, blood loss, probably infection setting in. She'll slow us down or die on the way. Either way, we can't afford it."
The girl's face went pale. "Please. I'm a healer. I can help you. Just get me to the next town—"
"A healer who can't heal herself?" Sera shook her head. "Convenient story."
"I used everything I had on the wound to stop the bleeding!" Tears ran down the girl's face, mixing with rain. "I'm telling the truth. Please don't leave me here."
Korath looked at her leg. Sera was right—it was bad. Really bad. Without proper treatment, the girl would probably die.
But they'd all probably die anyway.
"We take her," he said.
Everyone turned to stare at him.
"Are you insane?" Sera demanded. "She'll get us all killed."
"Maybe. But I didn't escape the mines to become someone who leaves people to die." Korath met her eyes. "We take her. I'll carry her if I have to."
"You can barely carry yourself."
"Then I'll learn."
Silence. Then Daven sighed. "Kid's right. We're not slavers or bandits. We help if we can." He looked at the girl. "What's your name?"
"Kira," she whispered. "Kira Thorne."
"Well, Kira Thorne, welcome to the stupidest group of travelers in Valdris." Daven offered his hand. "Let's get you out of this hole."
They fashioned a stretcher from branches and rope. Brick carried most of the weight—the big man was hurt but still stronger than anyone else. Getting out of the ravine took hours of painful work, pulling and pushing and nearly falling twice.
But they made it.
By the time they reached the top, night was falling again. They set up camp in a hurry, building a fire while Sera examined Kira's leg more carefully.
"We need to set the bone," Sera announced. "And clean the wound. It's infected."
"I can talk you through it," Kira said. Her face was gray with pain. "I've done it before, just... never on myself."
What followed was one of the worst things Korath had ever witnessed.
They held Kira down while Sera pulled the bone straight. The girl's screams echoed through the forest. Blood flowed fresh from the wound. She passed out twice, woke up, passed out again.
But when it was done, the leg was straight and bandaged with strips torn from someone's shirt.
"She might live," Sera said quietly. "If infection doesn't take her. If the leg heals right. If, if, if."
Korath sat beside Kira as she slept, watching her breathe. Each breath was shallow, labored. She looked so young and fragile in the firelight.
"Why did you really do it?" Tam asked, sitting down beside him. "Save her, I mean."
Korath thought about it. Why had he? They were barely surviving themselves.
"Because someone has to," he said finally. "Someone has to choose to help. Or what's the point of being free?"
Tam nodded slowly, like he understood.
That night, Korath took first watch. As he sat in the darkness, sword across his lap, he thought about all the choices that had led him here.
Escaping the mines. Killing the overseer. Sparing the bandit boy—no, he hadn't spared him. Brick had finished it.
And now saving a stranger who would probably die anyway.
He was changing. Becoming something different from the scared slave boy who just wanted to survive.
Whether that was good or bad, he didn't know yet.
But there was no going back now.